All The Time In The World?
by amyniknak
Summary: RonHermione. She had said he was the best thing that ever happened to her. He’d never been the best thing in anyone’s life before. It was nice, he decided. Follows Ron and Hermione through their first summer together and their final year at Hogwarts.
1. One

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter or the amazing characters of Ron and Hermione.

A/N – Ok, this is a sequel to my previous story Who Needs Love? (link on my profile) but it can be read on its own as well. Basically, a lot of nice incidents that happen during Ron and Hermione's summer after Deathly Hallows ends, and their seventh year at Hogwarts.

Edit – I changed the title and summary because I thought it was kind of strange.

And can you please please review if you read, because knowing people actually care about this story really helps me get inspiration and gives me a nice ego boost if they are positive. Of course, if you have any criticism, that's good too, because I do pay attention to it and on several occasions it had enabled me to improve on my writing.

_One._

Dear Mr Weasley,

I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected as the new Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed you will find your badge. You will meet with me and the new Head Girl on September 1st aboard the Hogwarts Express to discuss your duties.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Ron felt his jaw go slack as he furiously re-read the strange words on the parchment. It didn't make any sense, none at all… It couldn't be for him. Not him, the lanky ginger idiot... He checked the front of the envelope again, almost hoping that it would say Harry Potter, that was the logical choice of course. Harry had got better OWL results than him, Harry was popular, Harry was brave, oh, _and_ Harry had defeated You-Know-Who. It made no sense. Nope, Ron thought, none at all.

But sure enough, the emerald green writing was addressed to Ronald Weasley, The Kitchen, The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England.

Then it must be a prank, Ron told himself. But it couldn't have been George, could it? A year ago Ron wouldn't have even considered the possibility of it being genuine, but now, it was different. George had only just begun to attend meals with the rest of his family again. Ron wasn't betting that he was up to playing such an elaborate trick on his little brother. Well, at least, not right now.

And Harry and Ginny hadn't so much as glanced at him, they were too busy reading their own booklists. and sitting rather close together. Ron felt sure they were holding hands under the table. Well, as long as there's no thigh touching going on, I'm fine, he thought, shuddering involuntarily at the thought.

So maybe it was real. The badge in his sweaty palm certainly looked like the one he had seen pinned to his brother Bill's robes, and later, Percy's. The same letters – "HB, in shining gold lettering, set against a background of the Hogwarts crest. Ron gently stroked the surface with his thumb. Was it really his? It was too good, no, bloody fantastic, to be true surely…

No-one else in the kitchen had noticed anything different. Nothing new there, Ron said to himself. That was always his gripe; that he was always overshadowed, that no-one ever paid him any attention; but recently, it felt so hollow. It wasn't true anymore and he knew it. He didn't know whether it was because he was more mature (because he was, no matter what Ginny said when he made kissy noises at her whenever she smiled at Harry) or because everything was so different in the aftermath of the war. Or maybe, he thought with a smile, it was because of her.

Hermione Granger.

After years of waiting, of agonising over whether he should do anything, it had finally happened. She was his girlfriend. Yes, it was true that she had kissed him, but that wasn't the point. She had said he was the best thing that ever happened to her. He'd never been the best thing in anyone's life before. It was nice, he decided.

She was due to arrive back at the Burrow in an hour he noted as he glanced at the clock. She'd been away, in Australia, fixing her parents' memories and bringing them home. He'd begged to be allowed to come with her, he'd pleaded, he'd got down on his knees and faked crying (which had been pretty embarrassing when his Dad had walked in) but eventually he had decided to stay with his family. Yes, he needed Hermione, but he got the feeling that his family, the Weasley's, needed him a whole lot more.

It was a strange thing, needing someone. Over the past year, it had seemed like the worst thing ever. The constant thought in the back of his mind that she would be killed, leaving him alone and utterly unable to cope had been driving him insane. He had even wished he had never met her, that she was just some girl, not Hermione, anything for the unbearable worry to lessen.

But then she'd kissed him, and he was so glad, so glad that she existed, so relieved that she was there to give him what he needed – someone worth fighting for.

Ron glanced down at his letter again, pondering whether to wait for Hermione's arrival before revealing its contents to his whole family. He didn't think he could wait; but Hermione's reaction would probably be worth it, just to see the smile on her face, to feel her crushing hug, maybe even feel her glorious lips (oh, her lips) on his yet again…

"Oi Ron, what's that?"

Ron felt another hand on his. George. Ron was happy for his brother, happy that he could finally find it within himself to forget Fred for even a second, but why did it have to be now?

"You're kidding." George whispered in disbelief. "You're not…"

Ron hissed desperately as an attempt to shut George up, but it was too late. His hand had been prised open by his brother curious fingers, and suddenly he couldn't feel the cold metal any more… Instead he could see it, held high like a trophy in George's hand, his own feeble cries of indignation drowned out by the screeches and congratulations of everyone in the room…

"Third in the family! Oh Ron, I can't… Oh Ron, I don't believe it, my little Ron! Third in the family! Another Weasley Head Boy! Oh Arthur, come and look at this…"

"Nice one mate, couldn't have picked a better person, thank god it wasn't me…"

"Ah Ron, well done! I've got lots of tips for you if you want any, and there's that book I bought when I first got my badge, I'll go fetch it now…"

"What did I tell you, only prats become prefects, only half-wits become Head Boy…"

"Nice one Ron!"

"What's all this fuss about?"

"Oh Arthur, Ron's Head Boy!"

"Really? Third in the family! Well done son."

The many voices were silenced by a loud crack that came from somewhere behind Ron. He turned around, half-expecting Professor McGonagall come to tell him it had all been a mistake, but instead he was greeted by a flurry of brown hair and a smile he knew could knock him out at ten paces…

"I GOT IT!! I'M HEAD GIRL! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!"

Ron smiled. It always amused him when Hermione acted like a girl. Not that she wasn't a girl, she was, bloody hell, she was… but seeing her screeching hysterically always seemed so strange it couldn't help but make him smile.

Hermione sank into the nearest chair, red in the face. Mrs Weasley ran to the stove, to serve up another plate of fried eggs and bacon. Ron took the time to retrieve his Head Boy badge from where it lay on the table and put it safely away in his pocket, before leaning back in his chair, trying desperately to make eye contact with Hermione.

"I'm sorry I came earlier than expected Mrs Weasley. I was going to come at ten, as I said in my letter, but then I got my letter, and my badge, and I had to come straight away, and oh my god Ron, you got it too!"

"Um, yeah." Ron nodded. He wasn't really concentrating. How could he concentrate on anything, let alone speech, when Hermione was sat in front of him, her face flushed and her hair as wild as ever.

"Congratulations!" Hermione replied, considerably calmer than before. Ron froned. What had happened to crazy shrill Hermione, the Hermione he had decided not two seconds ago that he would like to kiss very much?

"Oh, Ron, before I forget, I need to talk to you about something."

Oh bugger bugger bugger, Ron thought. That was never good. Whenever Lavender had said that to him it had been about his talking to Hermione too much for her liking or how she thought he shouldn't wear maroon so much (even though he had told her a million times he only wore it because of his mother.)

"What about?" he said, trying to sound confident and breezy. He wasn't bothered. Why would a little thing like having a talk with his girlfriend bother the new Head Boy of Hogwarts?

"Oh, it's nothing really." Hermione sighed. Ron felt his shoulders relax.

"But I'm not sure you'll like it, so I'll tell you upstairs.. come on."

ARGH. Ron followed her, feeling his heart beat increase tenfold. ARGH ARGH ARGH. Had he really messed things up so soon? Why? Why was it always him? Some Head Boy he'd turn out to be…


	2. Two

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter etc.

A/N – By the way, I hate this chapter. It's kind of filler, just a lot of talking, but I promise the next chapter will be better. Stuff actually happens in the next chapter. Lol. Anyway, please review!

_Two._

Hermione led the way upstairs to the room she usually shared with Ginny. She couldn't help but feel guilty, after all, what she wanted to say wasn't that bad at all. Sure, he would probably be upset for a while, but surely it would all blow over soon enough… that was, if she ever got around to telling him…

Hermione tended to be the sort of girl who put important things off. Not homework obviously, she would never leave that until the last minute, but more emotional things she tended to keep to herself for as long as possible. She assumed that was why it had taken her so long to even admit to herself that she liked Ron in a way that wasn't really the same as how she liked Harry, or Neville, or Viktor, or any other guy she'd met, and then there had been that ridiculous amount of time between that, and actually kissing him, and then telling him how she felt, and even now she hadn't actually told him properly, only in a letter… and…

None of that mattered though, Hermione thought. What mattered right now was saying what she needed to say without somehow provoking Ron into cursing her. Of course, that wasn't likely to happen, was it? It wasn't that bad really… she hadn't done anything wrong… nothing he wouldn't have done surely…

She pushed open the door and beckoned for Ron to follow her inside. He shuffled in slowly, his eyes firmly focussed on the wooden floorboards.

"Ron?" Hermione tentatively asked. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um, I'm fine." He replied, in a way that let Hermione know immediately that something was bothering him. And almost laughably, it was her fault. Her fault for building everything up so it seemed more important than it really was. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. To put him through this, after he'd so recently lost his brother… it was awful. But there was no going back now. Hermione decided instead to act as if everything was normal. Maybe that would end up calming him. And indeed, herself.

"Well you can tell me what's wrong later, because I've got something to tell you first."

She swallowed, and quickly went over the words in her head for the thousandth time. Remember Hermione, she told herself. Stay calm. Don't try to build up tension for heaven's sake.

"Okay, well, I've brought my parents back from Australia and I fixed their memories."

"Did it go okay?"

Hermione smiled. She couldn't help it. It happened every time Ron spoke to her. She continued.

"Yes, it did. It was amazing Ron, honestly. I performed the charm, and it was so strange, watching my mother's face sort of shift, as she went back to who she was, and then she recognised me and just hugged me…and Dad, he was really confused, but I didn't know if I should tell him everything, about where I'd been all year and where they'd been all year. I didn't know if they'd even understand everything, or if they'd get that glazed look on their faces like when I told them about my OWL results. So I tried to explain everything to them.."

"Wait, what?" Ron interrupted. Hermione turned to glare at him. Why was he always so rude? Even when they were officially going out together he couldn't wait until she'd finished what she was saying to give his contribution. And it would usually be something completely irrelevant that had nothing to do with what she was talking about, and it would make her forget what she was going to say, and it would infuriate her, and she'd been trying to stay so calm and…

"Yes Ron?" she sighed.

"Um, well, did you really tell your parents everything? You know, about, um, er, me, and yeah, me?"

Ah. He'd got it. Well, that was a relief. At least she wouldn't have to spell it out to him and make him look stupid and cause an argument.

"Yes."

Ron groaned, and put his head in his hands.

"Well, I had to Ron, they deserved to know, and you came off very well if that's any comfort."

Ron grunted. It didn't seem to have made any difference.

"To my mother anyway." she whispered.

Ron sat up and Hermione could see that his face was bright red. She had been half-hoping he hadn't heard that part, so she would still be able to say she told him, he just wasn't listening… but no such luck.

"Well, I told them both, and I'd got up to the bit where you, erm, left me and Harry, and by that time my dad was really angry that I'd done so many unsafe and crazy things and he sort of got angry with you. And I'm really sorry Ron, but he wouldn't listen to anything else after that. He's not really overprotective usually, but in the circumstances…"

Hermione tailed off, biting her lip. Well, at least she'd said it. Well, not all of it. She would have described this as torture, had she not already been through a real, far more painful Cruciatus curse only a few months previously… She wished she was better at this sort of thing. And she wished her parent hadn't wanted to get involved in the first place. Why did everything seem so complicated, as soon as they'd finally managed to get together?

"So, your dad doesn't like me?" Ron murmured.

"My mum does though…" Hermione protested, trying desperately to salvage the situation.

"So she doesn't believe I'm a complete waste of space then?"

"No, not at all!" Hermione said, realising that she had begun to raise her voice. She had to turn this round. "She said it was really brave how you helped destroy the locket, and she said it was so sweet that you were shouting my name whilst I was… you know. Bellatrix."

"You told her that?" Ron cringed. Hermione couldn't help smiling slightly again. One of the sweetest things he'd ever done and he was ashamed of it, typical Ron.

"Yes, and she wants to meet you."

"WHAT?"

This was exactly why she hadn't wanted to say anything. But her mum had insisted, said that she wanted to meet him, especially as Hermione hadn't been able to talk about anyone else…

"I'm sorry Ron, I don't want to either, but we have to… at least maybe you can prove my dad wrong..."

"Oh excellent…" Ron replied, and Hermione sensed a heavy hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Just brilliant. I get to go meet a Muggle who already hates me, even though he hasn't even met me, well, not in six years… hang on Hermione, they've already met me! I don't need to go!"

He leaned back in satisfaction, happy that his argument was foolproof.

"I'm sorry Ron, but they haven't seen you since, and anyway, I can safely say you've changed a lot, and anyway, then you weren't my, um, boyfriend, and I don't even think Mum really remembers you."

"She doesn't remember me?"

"Can you blame her? She was stuck in Diagon Alley, hardly the most welcoming place for a Muggle dentist."

She took hold of Ron's hand. The worst was over now. The worst had been over as soon as Voldemort's lifeless body had hit the floor. She seriously needed to get some perspective.

"Look, they just want to have a meal with us, so they can talk more about what happened when they were away. That's not too much to ask, is it? Not after, well, last year… And anyway, you can tell them you're Head Boy now, they'll like that"

"Well, yes…" Ron murmured.

"We'll go tomorrow then?" Hermione replied, feeling a weight lift from her chest.

"Tomorrow!?!"

"That's what my mum said. Come on, the sooner we get this out of the way the sooner we can have time to ourselves."

Ron nodded, a smile creeping onto his face.

"'Kay then.."

"I'll go owl them now, then, well, maybe I can come back up here and we can…" Hermione looked at the ground as her cheeks flushed pink, "talk, or something."

"Sounds fine…" Ron replied in strangled voice.

Hermione jumped up from the bed and ran downstairs to write her letter. The thought of being alone with Ron was far too tempting to put off for too long.


	3. Three

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N – This chapter is way long. Well, longer than I usually write anyway. And I actually really like this chapter, it seemed to flow really well. Thanks for the reviews so far by the way, it makes me very happy. The next chapter should be up quite quickly too. So yeah. Enjoy!

(And do you know what can mess you up whilst writing a fanfic for Harry Potter set after the seventh book ended? Watching the first Harry Potter film. God. They're all so young! But Ron is very adorable… Hermione not so much. But ah well.)

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_Three._

Ron had never been the type to worry too much about what he looked like. He usually just threw whatever clean clothes he had on in the morning and ran his hand through his hair a couple of times to get rid of any obvious tangles. But today was different, he thought. Today it was his responsibility to make a good impression on his girlfriend's parents.

It was a strange thing, responsibility. Being from a large family, Ron was used to not having to do much, as the chances were that someone else would do it for him sooner or later. And being friends with Harry and Hermione had meant that he wasn't counted on to be the brave one, or the clever one. But over the past year, Ron had come to realise that certain things were up to him, he was the only one who could help. Seeing Harry drowning in an icy cold pond – he had to be the one to save him. He had a responsibility to do it. And this was exactly the same. He couldn't just turn up and not make an effort. He owed it to Hermione, and he owed it to himself.

Since when did he become so bloody philosophical? he thought as he went through his chest of drawers for the thousandth time. Hermione's influence probably… not that Ron minded having Hermione influencing him at all. In fact, he would have preferred it if she'd "influence" him a lot more.

Ron shook his head. He did not need to get caught up in fantasies about Hermione right now. He sighed, and abandoned his search for a perfect outfit. He'd do it later…

Heading into the bathroom, he began to run some water into the sink. He could at least wash his face… and maybe shave. Yeah, he would have to shave. The ginger-bearded look was probably not one for him…

"Ron?"

"Yes Mum?" Ron replied. Why couldn't she see that he was busy? He was in the bathroom for god's sake! Did she think he'd just let her straight in and have a nice conversation with her? Seriously...

"I was just wondering if you had anything to wear tonight? I've ironed your good shirt –"

"I have to wear a shirt?"

Even from behind a heavy wooden door, Ron could hear his mother sigh.

"Yes Ronald, I do not want you running around like a scruff. Now hurry up in there, your sister's going out with Harry tonight and she needs to have a bath."

"Fine, I'm coming…"

Ron waited until he heard her footsteps going downstairs before letting himself out of the bathroom. He noticed she'd left his shirt, neatly pressed and ironed, outside his bedroom door, along with his black school trousers and new-looking maroon jumper. Bloody maroon again, Ron mumbled to himself, before picking up the pile of clothes and retreating into his bedroom to get dressed.

Just as long as Hermione never found out his mother had picked his clothes he'd be fine, he told himself.

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Ron had never realised that Hermione was so… well. _Rich_. It had never really come up. He supposed that was because she hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, but there had been no warning, none at all. She acted like everyone else. But when they'd Apparated into a peaceful, quiet suburb of Oxford, with leafy avenues and houses that looked the same size as castles, Ron was just a bit surprised. She'd never had much more money than anyone else, had she? Harry had always been the one with huge bags full of galleons, not Hermione.

However, walking up the driveway towards the front door of Hermione's parent's house proved once and for all that that was not the case. Ron could hear the crunching of gravel under his feet, and all the plants in the garden looked as if they were supposed to be there. The door boasted a large brass knocker, with "Granger" inscribed at the bottom in tiny letters. Ron took hold of Hermione's hand as she knocked sharply on the door.

The door opened with a creak, and Ron found himself looking at Mr Granger. He was tall, almost the same size as Ron but not quite, and he had light brown hair streaked with grey. He smiled broadly at the sight of Hermione, and quickly wrapped his arm around her in what Ron supposed was supposed to look like a friendly embrace but was really a signal that Ron had better not try anything. He noticed that Mr Granger was eyeing him carefully, as if trying to find some kind of obvious visible feature that would straight away make Ron unsuitable for his daughter. Hermione wasn't kidding when she said her dad didn't like me, he thought to himself.

From behind her husband, Mrs Granger emerged, and to Ron's relief she seemed a lot friendlier. Mainly because she resembled Hermione a great deal, Ron said to himself. She was thin, with a shock of wild brown hair the twin of her daughter's and kind, warm eyes.

"Ron!" she smiled. "I recognise you, of course, but haven't you changed! Come on in, dinner won't be long."

She turned and headed into the house, and Ron followed tentatively, wondering for a moment whether he should take his shoes off. The carpet looked so clean, and so different from the worn floorboards at home – but then again, it would be embarrassing to reveal his worn trainers that were a bit too small for him to his girlfriend's parents. He glanced at Hermione for guidance, but she was busy chatting animatedly to her father, who seemed to be firing question after question at her in what Ron privately thought was a ploy to keep her to himself. He couldn't believe himself. Already he was getting bloody jealous of her dad… he'd always known he was pathetic, but this? This reached new levels of loserdom.

"Well, this is the living room of course, and here's the dining room, and kitchen's through here, and the downstairs bathrooms right here, and just down here is the extension, that was built two years ago so we could have a bit of extra room…"

What? Ron exclaimed, inside his head. They didn't need any extra room! Two people lived in this house, and already their downstairs was bigger than his whole house put together. And what was with all those expensive looking paintings? And the polished wooden floors?

"Would you like a drink? Hermione sweetheart, can you get that wine from the cellar please, there's a good girl."

ARGH. She'd abandoned him already. Ron look awkwardly around him, trying to avoid Mr Granger's ominous looking gaze. Silence had descended over the three as soon as Hermione had left. Not surprising, Ron thought. She's the only reason I'm bloody here. I don't even fit in here. I'm wearing a jumper knitted by my mum!

"So…" Ron said. Oops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Now he sounded insolent, and ungrateful, and all those other things that Professor Snape had described him as a million times before. Nice one, Ron. And he couldn't suddenly bring the whole Head Boy thing in yet. He had to save that for when he really needed it.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only a minute or two, Hermione returned, clutching a dusty bottle of wine. She looked flustered, her usually pale face pink and she was breathing heavily.

"What d'you do, run there and back?" Ron whispered, as soon as Mr Granger had followed his wife into the kitchen.

Hermione smiled briefly.

"Well, I didn't want to leave you on your own, so I was as quick as I could be. I know what you're like Ron, you probably would have engaged my dad in a conversation about Quidditch and completely confused him." Her face then changed.

"You didn't did you Ron? Oh please say you didn't…"

"Of course not, Hermione. I do know how to behave…"

"I highly doubt that Ron."

Ron could feel one of their arguments coming on. Not one of the serious ones, about cats and rats or Quidditch players with too many muscles or lucky potion or blonde girls who giggled a lot. This was one of those arguments that weren't serious; the ones that always left him exhilarated and extremely turned on.

Which was not really the best thing that could happen right now.

"Hermione," Ron protested, but she was already in full swing. It was strange, Ron thought, how when people argued in whispers they assumed that no-one could hear them.

"Ron, you are the most socially inept person I know! Who was it who called me, what was it, a nightmare? Honestly, I don't believe you sometimes…"

Ron tried not to look at her. If he had to look at that glimmer in her eyes, the way her hair had seemed to grow even wilder, the way she placed her hands upon her lips as she shouted at him… That was when he noticed Mrs Granger, who had obviously come to ask them something. She was watching them with a concerned expression on her face. Of course, Ron realised. She wasn't to know that they just argued for the sake of it. She probably thought they were on the verge of breaking up or something.

"Hermione..." Ron warned, tapping her shoulder.

Hermione noticed her mother, and immediately stopped talking.

After yet another awkward silence, Mrs Granger broke the tension.

"Dinner won't be ready for another hour I'm afraid. I didn't read the instructions properly, it's been a while since I cooked for more than two people!"

"It's fine Mum, really…" Hermione replied, biting her lip. Ron noticed she still looked quite guilty for arguing with him in front of her mother.

"I thought I'd planned all this so well too!" Mrs Granger apologised. "I got all the ingredients… but I didn't read the cookbook properly, so it's a bit of a wait… you can go and watch television if you want, hang on, I got a video out you could watch! Your father won't watch it with me, he says it looks a bit girly, but you'll watch it won't you Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, and followed her mother into what Ron assumed was the living room. He perched precariously on the black leather sofa, which made an embarrassing noise when it made contact with the seat of his jeans. Ron immediately felt his face blush bright red. What was he supposed to do now? Mrs Granger was putting what looked like a small black box into another box, and pressing some buttons, and then what Ron knew was a television (his dad had a broken one just like it in his shed) flickered into life and there was sound, and pictures, and it was like a wizard photograph but weird. Ah well, Ron sighed. He leaned back carefully, trying his hardest not to make that noise again, and tried to watch the film.

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After about half an hour, Ron decided the film was boring. He'd heard stories of Muggle films that had big battles in space, and wars, and car crashes and other exciting things like that, but this film, it was just about an old ship. And this woman who had tried to jump off the edge, and this guy who had saved her. And it had a lot of jangly piano music in the background. It was no wonder Mr Granger hadn't wanted to watch it, Ron thought.

"Ron? Are you even watching this?" Hermione hissed from across the room.

Ron shrugged. Maybe if he told them he didn't like it they'd be able to watch something else.

Mrs Granger frowned slightly.

"I should have known a boy of your age wouldn't be too keen on _Titanic_! If you want, you can go find Hermione's dad, I think he's on the computer. It's a new one, Windows 98; ask him if he can show you what it does."

Ron froze. That was the last thing he wanted to do. Go and look at a computer, whatever that was, with a man who hated him? Yay, fun. Or not. He half thought about staying exactly where he was. The film wasn't that terrible, was it? But then, maybe if he tried to talk to Hermione's dad, she'd be pleased, and after all, wasn't this what the evening was all about? Showing her parents that he was good enough for their daughter; that he wasn't just some ginger loser.

He got up from the sofa, and set off to look for wherever the computer was. It didn't really help that he had no idea what one was. And Hermione's house was like a maze! There were so many doors, all of them identical, and he didn't dare open any of them in case he wasn't supposed to.

Eventually he came to a small room that was situated at the very back of the house. The door was slightly ajar, and Ron could see Mr Granger sat on a chair in front of another screen similar to the television. He knocked gently on the doorframe. He didn't want to barge right in. He had a feeling that wouldn't make a very good impression. Mr Granger turned around, and his face darkened slightly.

"Um, I got told to ask you about that." Ron said, pointing at the computer. "Is it new?"

Mr Granger looked confused for a second, before launching into a long speech about things Ron couldn't even hope to understand; things called hard-drives, and RAM, and discs, and word-processing, and spreadsheets, and modems and the internet. But he tried to nod in all the right places. It will be worth it, he told himself. It's for Hermione.

Eventually Mr Granger stopped talking to study Ron again. Ron really wished he wouldn't do that. He wasn't usually the paranoid type, but people looking at him strangely always made him think his hair was sticking up in a strange way or that he had dirt on his nose. And he was reminded so strongly of Hermione, and her bossy first year self that he had to smile. If he'd known then that he'd be her boyfriend…

"What are you thinking about?" Mr Granger asked, suspicion rising in his voice.

Ron pondered for a second over whether he should lie and say Quidditch, something that Mr Granger knew nothing about and therefore could not ask him any questions about. But then again, that would make him the weirdo who smiled when he thought of sport. Nope, it's the truthful approach this time, Ron decided.

"Hermione.." he mumbled.

Mr Granger raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, no, it was nothing like that…" Ron protested, realising his mistake. Nice one Ron, he thought. Yes, tell your girlfriend's dad you were thinking about her, so that he thinks you're perving over her. Great idea. "It was nothing, you know, I was just thinking about, um, when we met, and how it was really weird thinking about then and now, and things, and…" he tailed off, hoping he hadn't made things worse.

Mr Granger didn't move for a second, but then pulled up another chair identical to his own.

"Sit down." He commanded. Ron obeyed, feeling sick. You-Know-Who hadn't killed him, but Hermione's dad might…

"You know, I must say I was surprised when Hermione told me about you." He began, still not taking his eyes off Ron. "I always assumed that she would end up with that other boy, Harry."

You and the rest of the world, Ron thought bitterly.

"But my wife said otherwise, she was always telling me that Hermione liked you instead. She said it was obvious in her letters, I couldn't see it myself. She told me to read between the lines, and that I was being delusional if I saw otherwise."

He paused, as if thinking, before continuing.

"And I'm sure Hermione's told you what I thought of you when you left her on her own."

"I know, and I'm sorry…" Ron said, trying not to sound too whiny. "That was the worst thing I've ever done, it was a mistake, that's why I came back…"

"I was mainly concerned about whether you truly cared about her if you were so willing to leave her when she needed you the most." Mr Granger said, in a stern voice that for a second reminded Ron of Professor McGonagall. "Now I don't mean to lecture you, and of course, Hermione is free to make her own decisions, who am I to stop her? But I must ask you one thing, and I want you to answer truthfully. Do you care about her?"

Ron nodded, feeling his ears redden. "Yes." he croaked. "I really do. She's… I, I mean, well, I do, she's…" What was he supposed to say? I've fancied her for years, and I'm in love with her, even thought I haven't officially told her that yet, but that's okay, I'd rather tell her father first?!

Mr Granger nodded slowly, as if processing this new information. "Well..." he began. "I suppose, if you, well, that's fine with me."

Ron smiled slightly. It was strange, almost as if an unspoken deal had been made.

"Can I see your computer?" Ron asked.

Mr Granger smiled. And Ron realised that his smile was the same as his daughter's.

"Of course." he replied.

Ron was very pleased with himself. He had managed to get Mr Granger to accept him, and he'd have lots to tell his own father when he got home about how computers worked. Not a bad idea to come here really, he mused.

"Dinner's ready!" Mrs Granger called from the kitchen. Delicious aromas were spreading throughout the house, and Ron thought he could smell some kind of chicken, and gravy, and was that Yorkshire pudding? Yep, best idea ever to visit the girlfriend's parents, Ron thought, as he headed into the dining room to begin the meal.


	4. Four

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter, or titanic for that matter.

A/N – Okay, there was a reason I had them all watch Titanic, and it's at the end of this chapter. Hahaha. And I'm sorry if Mrs Granger is a bit weird at the end of this. She just went that way. And I had to get some Hermione fluffiness in there. (see last line.) And thanks for the reviews, I'm really getting into this story now.

And does anyone have any ideas as to who could be the new DADA teacher at Hogwarts? All the possible people were killed in Deathly Hallows really, so I may have to make an OC for it. Hmm.

And this story is not finished, even though the ending looks like it could be. A couple more chapters (one involving George, one involving a partay!) and they go to Hogwarts, and things may get a little bit more complicated…

Please review. Please. It really helps me, seriously.

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_Four._

Hermione had to admit it – she was surprised that the evening was going as well as it was. Yes, she might have argued a little bit with Ron, but it wasn't serious, that was just what they did, and after reassuring her mother that they were not on the cusp of splitting up, everything had returned to going smoothly again.

True, no-one had really been talking to each other (to her knowledge anyway) but surely that would pass sooner or later… once everyone got used to each other. After all, there was a big cultural difference to get past – the fact that she and Ron knew magic and her parents didn't. Despite this, Hermione felt sure that once everyone was seated together at the table, they would begin to converse with each other and enjoy each other's company.

But then she hadn't really considered what Ron might do.

His table manners weren't that bad, Hermione thought, as she watched Ron drown his dinner in gravy and tomato ketchup. And he hadn't really slurped the soup that loudly, had he? It was a very runny soup, and… oh, who was she trying to fool? Ron eating dinner with her parents had so far been a complete disaster. Her father had seemed to warm to him slightly, but now, Hermione could see he was eyeing Ron with disdain. Right, she thought. Time for the trump card.

"Mum, Dad, did I tell you that Ron has been made Head Boy this year?"

Her father raised an eyebrow, which Hermione sincerely hoped was a good sign. Her mother gasped, before setting down her fork and clapping loudly.

"Oh well done Ron! I expect your mother was very pleased!"

Ron nodded, the tips of his ears flaming scarlet. He busied himself with making sure all of his chicken was completely soaked in gravy, refusing to look up. Typical, Hermione sighed.

"Yes, Ron's the third Head Boy in his family, aren't you Ron?"

Ron still didn't reply. Not really the best time to be modest Ron, Hermione thought.

Mr Granger frowned slightly for a second.

"Ron." He asked, as if trying to figure something out. "Hermione hasn't told us, what marks did you get in your exams?"

Why did her father always put so much focus on grades, Hermione thought. Wasn't it enough that Ron had been chosen to be Head Boy? Did he have to have perfect grades as well? And why wasn't Ron answering?

"Um, I got, er, I passed everything except Divination and History of Magic…" Ron mumbled, still studying his plate intently.

No-one seemed to have anything to say in reply, and continued eating. This was awful, Hermione decided. The tension in the room could have been cut with a blunt knife, and the silence was almost unbearable. The scraping sound of knives on plates was the only sound that could be heard, aside from Ron's noisy chewing. Hermione raced to clear her plate, before excusing herself to go and help with dessert.

She headed into the kitchen to retrieve four china bowls, and began to arrange the fruit her mother had prepared into patterns. It felt bizarre, yet strangely soothing, to be doing something so trivial and pointless. She finished, stood back for a moment to admire her work (it had been a long time since she had done something like this without magic) and then weakened and levitated the four bowls. It would have been next to impossible to carry them all at once after all. She set them down on the table, where everyone immediately began eating. Hermione supposed they couldn't stand the silence as well.

Her mother finished first, and put down her spoon.

"Now, I thought we could all finish watching the film together. It's very good so far, isn't it Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. It had been quite good, if a little unbelievable. The idea of finding a drawing from almost a hundred years ago intact was pretty absurd – but then again, she had spent the last year camping in a tent the size of a house searching for various objects that contained part of a dark wizard's soul. And she wasn't usually a fan of romantic films, and that was definitely where this one was going, but it did feel nice to spend time with her mother, doing something normal for a change. The four of them cleared the table, before settling onto the sofas in the living room to watch the film.

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Hermione didn't know if she should be sitting so close to Ron, what with her parents sitting right across from them. She felt almost guilty, considering she had spent the entire year, no, almost seven consecutive years, with him, and not them. But nevertheless, it was nice to be able to lean her head on Ron's shoulder. The wine had made her slightly sleepy, and the feel of the soft wool of his jumper on her cheek was very pleasant. She could feel Ron's breath, and smell his smell. It felt so intimate, yet modest at the same time.

She could feel her eyes closing, and the soft music in the background lulling her to sleep. The suddenly, she felt Ron jump beside her, as if he had just been slapped in the face. She lazily opened her eyes, and saw exactly why Ron had reacted the way he did. Kate Winslet was sprawled upon a sofa, completely naked.

Normally Hermione would have been quite miffed to find out that Ron would be ogling some other woman, but now it was one of the most hilarious things she had ever seen. Ron was furiously blushing, avoiding looking at the TV screen, fidgeting nervously and crossing and uncrossing his legs for some reason Hermione could not fathom. To her surprise, her father was acting in a similar way, trying to look as of he was not paying attention at all.

"Um, Ron?" her father asked. "Would you like to have another look at the computer?"

Ron leapt up from the settee, and almost raced out of the room, his long legs moving faster than Hermione had ever seen. Her father followed, closing the door behind him.

"It's all over now as well." Her mother remarked, as the scene changed. Hermione laughed, and moved to sit by her mother.

"Men." continued Mrs Granger, pulling Hermione into a hug. "Who'd have them, honestly."

Hermione nodded, then the two settled back into silence. Hermione was becoming quite engrossed by now, as the film changed from being just a romance to a fight for survival. It reminded her painfully of the Battle of Hogwarts almost. The Battle where so many people had been lost – only here, there were no winners.

"It's not real though, is it…" Mrs Granger remarked quietly, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.

"It is, Mum." Hermione answered, confused. "It really happened. Maybe not Jack and Rose, but there really was a Titanic…"

"I know that." Mrs Granger replied. "That's not what I was talking about."

Hermione tore her eyes away from the screen long enough to answer.

"Then what were you talking about?"

"Them. Jack and Rose. They can't really have been in love. They haven't known each other for long at all."

Hermione frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, to me, real love is more than just kissing on the deck of a ship and then drawing naked pictures. That's all lust, isn't it? For it to be love, they have to get to know one another, to recognise each other's faults and accept them, and to celebrate their similarities. I doubt this Jack even knows her surname."

Hermione was confused. Where had all this come from? Her mother had never been like this, for as long as she'd known her. She'd always been very concise and clinical – perhaps it came from being a dentist. She had never spoken about feelings before. Especially not to her. Hermione had never been particularly close to her mother. In fact, though she hated to say it, Molly Weasley had been more like a mother to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if we all fell in love at first sight, we wouldn't be with who we're with right now. I didn't like your father when I first met him, in fact, I thought he was boring – but now we've been together for over twenty years. And I seem to remember you weren't too nice about Ron in your first letter home."

Hermione smiled at the memory. He had been an idiot back then. And he was still an idiot, but somehow, it didn't matter any more. Her mother was right.

"So that's why, these two can't be in love. Maybe they will be, or would be, but they are not right now."

"Why do you think that?"

Her mother shrugged. "I don't know. It's just something I believe in."

She turned to Hermione.

"You hold on to him, you hear?"

Hermione nodded.

"It's only a film Mum." She whispered softly.

"I know." Mrs Granger sighed. "It's just I heard it described somewhere as the greatest love story ever told, and… it's not. And forgive me for sounding so corny…" She chuckled slightly, before continuing. "But real romance is so much better, don't you think?"

"Yes." Hermione replied, without a second thought.

Mrs Granger smiled.

"I love seeing you so happy sweetheart."

"Me too. It makes a change really."

Her mother's grin faded, and she reached for the remote and paused the film.

"Hermione, I know that you're going into your last year of school now, and it's all very important, and your father and I want you to do well, and we know you will, so please, try to make sure you're happy. Have some fun! You can afford it, after last year."

It was Hermione's turn to frown.

"What do you mean?"

"After this year, you'll have so many more responsibilities, you'll have to provide for yourself, so this is your last year of freedom. Try to enjoy it."

This was quite probably the last thing Hermione would have expected her mother to say. How could she do anything like that, she had to work hard for her N.E.W.Ts, they were called Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for a reason, and of course, she was Head Girl, she couldn't spend all her time messing around…

"Has it finished yet?" came a small voice from somewhere outside the door.

Hermione laughed loudly.

"Ron! Don't be so stupid!"

Ron entered the room slowly, still averting his eyes from the television screen.

"Well, it's just we have to get home…" he said.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa. "I'm sorry Mum, we said we'd be back for 11, and oh no, it's half past ten…"

Mrs Granger got up, smiling, and hugged Hermione warmly.

"Of course, it's fine. I'll see you again soon."

Hermione nodded, before grabbing her jacket from the sofa arm where she had draped it earlier.

"Yes, I'll come back. We both will, won't we Ron?"

Ron nodded, not looking quite so sure. Still, at least he made the effort, Hermione thought.

"Oh, and Hermione?" she heard her mother call after her as she turned to leave. "Don't forget what I said."

"I won't." Hermione answered.

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"So, what are we doing tomorrow?" Ron asked, as he and Hermione walked to the nearby woodland where they were to Apparate from.

"I don't know." Hermione shrugged. "I was going to look over some books for school.."

No. That wasn't really what she wanted.

"… Just in the morning, then I was thinking we could maybe have a picnic, or go to Diagon Alley… or… I don't know. Whatever really."

She could tell Ron was smiling, even though the darkness forbade her from seeing him.

"Sounds good." he replied, squeezing her hand.

After all, Hermione thought, as Ron kissed her, it wouldn't do to be working all the time. Especially when they had all the time in the world now.


	5. Five

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N – I am ashamed by how long it took me to update this story. I kind of lost interest a bit, but recently I've got back into it and I have up to chapter seven written and almost ready to post right now, so expect some more regular updates from now on.

I quite like this chapter, by the way. Party!! Even though myself, I can't stand parties like the one in this chapter, writing them is still fun. Plus I like the teensy little bit of Neville/Luna I slipped in here. Because come on, they should have got together.

By the way, reviews are love. And maybe it should be your New Years Resolution to review each chapter, I don't know. Happy New year, by the way! Anyway, yeah. On with the story.

_Five._

The remaining weeks of the summer holidays seemed to fly by, until there were only seven days until Ron, Hermione and Harry had to return to Hogwarts. Ron didn't know whether it was the fact that this had been the best summer of his life (including the summer before fourth year when they'd gone to the Quidditch World Cup) or the fact that he was not looking forward to going back to school that had made the time pass so fast, or whether it was a combination of both.

Or maybe it was Hermione.

Since visiting her parents, their relationship seemed to have got even stronger. Ron had seen her everyday, even though she was officially still living with her parents and came to the Burrow during the day to spend time with him, Harry and Ginny, only sleeping over on the odd night she couldn't be bothered to go home.

It was just like having a real girlfriend, Ron had remarked once, which had unfortunately earned him a slap round the head.

"What did you think I was, a Hippogriff?" Hermione had retorted, and there had been an amazing argument which had resulted in their longest kissing session yet. And there had been tongue! Actual tongue! Ron decided he liked their pointless rows even more.

And today, Ron thought, as he lay back on his bed and watched the Quidditch players on his posters zoom around, would be just as great. Harry and Ginny had organised a party to be held at the Burrow.

Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper celebration. There had been loads, after You-Know-Who's downfall, but no-one in his family had gone to one. Not with Fred gone… it had never felt like the right time.

Ron heaved himself up from his bed and looked out of his window. He could see Harry and Ginny trying to get an old Muggle tape player to work, and Hermione levitating various balloons, streamers and paper lanterns into the gnarled trees from the top of a rickety looking stepladder. Ron smiled, and whistled loudly.

Hermione spun around, and promptly dropped the banner she had clearly been trying to hang from the branches.

"Ron!" she shouted, her face scarlet. "What the…I could have fallen and broken my neck!"

Ron winked, before racing downstairs to help. Normally he would not have been the type to volunteer for anything that could have been vaguely described as work, but this was different. This was relaxed, fun, with his friends. And maybe, he thought, as he unlatched the back door, Hermione might slip on the ladder, and he could catch her, and she'd call him her hero like in those romance novels his mum had (not that he'd ever read them) and he'd kiss her.

That's the hope, Ron chuckled to himself, as he picked up the banner Hermione had dropped.

"Seriously Ron, if I'd fallen, you would be in so much trouble!" Hermione yelled.

"Yeah, but you love me really…" Ron replied cheekily, his ears pink.

Hermione blushed, and glanced at Harry and Ginny, who had busied themselves with testing the tape-player, their backs turned.

"Yes, well, that may be true, but just… don't." Hermione smiled.

Now would be a good time for that kiss, Ron thought, but as he leaned forward, a loud voice interrupted them.

"Oi oi, what's this then?" Seamus asked, his face cracking into a broad grin.

"Shut it…" Ron muttered, as Hermione resumed her decorating of the tree.

"Sorry…" Neville muttered from behind Seamus. Was that really Neville? Ron thought. He looked so, different. He supposed they all did. But he liked that they were all still recognisable, just older, wiser, scarred.

"S'okay mate." Ron smiled, hugging Neville and ignoring Seamus's wolf-whistles. "How are you?"

"I'm good." Neville answered. "Erm, is Luna coming?"

"Why?" Ron said, smiling slightly.

"No reason." Neville blushed, before heading towards Harry and Ginny to greet them.

Ron turned to Hermione.

"Neville and Luna eh?"

"Me and Ginny always thought they'd get together eventually." Hermione replied, giggling in a most un-Hermione like way.

"Blimey Hermione, you know everything..." Ron said, laughing.

"I try…" Hermione said absent-mindedly.

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An hour later and the party was in full swing. Strange, loud, crazy Muggle music, provided by Dean, was blasting from the tiny tape deck, the volume magically magnified. Strange, ethereal balls of light hung in the air, the only source of light as the evening began to draw in.

Ron hadn't seen so many people in his garden since Bill and Fleur's wedding. Every student from their school year (excluding the Slytherin's) was there, drinks in hand, laughing, smiling. The members of the DA, the members of the various Quidditch teams past and present – it seemed that everyone wanted to come to a party thrown by Harry Potter, Ron thought.

"Want to dance?" Hermione asked, sidling up to him.

Ron spluttered, nearly spitting out his butterbeer.

"You have to be kidding, no-one else is!"

"I know…I don't particularly want to myself." Hermione sighed. "But someone has to get everyone else started… as soon as someone else dances we can sit down. Come on, Ginny thinks no-one's having any fun…"

"They are!" Ron retorted, pointing at the various groups that had formed around the garden. "Look, Dean and Seamus are trying to get Neville drunk over there, that's his third glass of Firewhisky, and Ginny and Luna are laughing, so see, everyone's having fun…"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Fine then." She smiled. "Have it your way. Stand there in the corner being anti-social."

"Hermione…" Ron moaned. "I'm not being anti-social, I'm just waiting until things get exciting before I get involved."

Hermione looked confused for a second, before grinning widely.

"You're really strange sometimes, you know that?" she said, her eyebrows raised.

"Thanks…" Ron replied, chuckling to himself.

"Anyway, I need to finish explaining to Ginny what Spin the Bottle is, she wants to play Muggle games later on and asked me for help, so… I'll see you."

She'd better, Ron thought, as he drained his paper cup.

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The party seemed to quieten down as the evening went on. The charm on the tape player seemed to be malfunctioning - the volume had been faltering from extremely loud to barely audible for the past half hour, and people had stopped standing around, instead they had all sank onto the grass to talk. Ron couldn't help but notice that people had started to pair off. Harry and Ginny had headed behind a tree five minutes ago and hadn't yet emerged, and Neville and Luna were talking quietly, seeming unable to look away from each other. Took them long enough, Ron thought, before realising the complete irony of his statement. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, he smiled. He couldn't help but wonder whether he and Hermione would have acted like that, awkwardly shy around each other, if she hadn't kissed him during the battle, if they weren't yet together. Or would they be arguing in a corner, trying to fight the urge to jump on each other and snog to within an inch of their lives. The last one, Ron decided.

"Oi! Everyone!" Ginny shouted, striding across the garden clutching an empty butterbeer bottle in her hand. Her face was flushed red, her hair ruffled. Ron's eyes narrowed as he glared at Harry, who didn't seem to have noticed. Indeed, Ron thought, he didn't seem to be noticing much at all. At least I don't look like I've been hit on the back of the head by a bludger when I get kissed, he snorted, before turning to listen to whatever Ginny had to say.

"Alright everyone!" Ginny shouted above the din of a band that Dean said were the Spice Girls, and "a bit crap, but girls seem to like them". "Hermione's told me about this Muggle game, where you spin a bottle, and whoever it lands on you have to kiss. And since we're all getting pretty drunk here, I thought we could play it."

Ron could already feel his face flushing bright scarlet. Neville had dropped the glass he had been holding, and Parvati and her twin Padma had begun to giggle furiously.

"Gin!" Ron hissed, chasing across the garden to catch up with Ginny, who was busy organising people into a circle. "We don't have to play this do we?"

"Yes!" she replied, her cheeks still pink. "Come on, it's only a bit of fun, and this party's boring so far!"

Everyone else seemed to have agreed with Ginny, and had already arranged themselves in a circle. Ron sat down between Neville and Michael Corner, steaming. Why was his stupid sister making him play this stupid embarrassing game? What if he had to watch Hermione kiss someone else? What was the point in the game anyway? If people wanted to kiss, they could just bloody kiss! They didn't need a bottle to tell them how to do that!

"This game's stupid." Ron murmured to Neville, who was studying his shoes intently.

Neville nodded but didn't seem to be listening, and preferring instead to shoot furtive looks across the circle in the direction of, Ron noticed, Luna.

Surely me and Hermione weren't this exasperating... Ron thought, fighting the urge to shout "Oi Luna, Neville fancies you!"

"I'll go first!" Parvati squealed, breaking Ron's train of thought, and pointed her wand at the stationary bottle.

"Roto!" she said, and the bottle began to spin furiously until it became a blur.

Please don't land on me, Ron pleaded, please, let it be someone else…

The bottle began to slow, until it stopped, pointing at Seamus, who smiled broadly and made his way over to where Parvati was sitting, her face bright red.

Oh excellent, Ron said to himself. Not only will I probably have to watch some idiot kiss my girlfriend because some bottle points at her, I have to watch as everyone else sucks each other's faces off. Just excellent. Best day ever.

"Am I too late to play?"

Ron spun around to see Lavender Brown staring at him. Bugger bugger bugger bugger bollocks, Ron thought, turning back around as fast as he could. Playing spin the bottle was bad, but playing it with his ex-girlfriend, now that was even worse.

"No, it's fine!" Ginny called, patting the patch of grass next to her. "There's a space here."

And thank you Ginevra Weasley, Ron sighed, trying to catch Hermione's eye. He knew she felt intimidated by Lavender, even though she wouldn't admit it, if he could only show her he didn't care, that she was worth a hundred of Lavender, there was no competition. But Hermione was engrossed in a conversation with Harry, who was sat to her left. I'll talk to her later, Ron thought, as he sat back and tried to be invisible.

"My turn!" Lavender said, taping the bottle with her wand and sending it into a spin.

Ron yawned. What kind of game was this anyway? It was hardly interesting. Watching people kiss each other, wow, fun.

And then the bottle stopped spinning.

Seriously, Ron thought, scratching his head. Who had invented this game? Did someone just get bored one day and realise that bottles could spin, and they decided to kiss whoever it pointed at? Was that what had happened?

Everyone had suddenly gone silent, Ron noticed. They'd gone from talking animatedly about who wanted to kiss who, and who would be the best kisser, to completely quiet. And they were staring at him. He looked down, and saw the neck of the bottle pointing straight at him, like a wand ready to stun him.

"No way…" he muttered, feeling his face burn.

Lavender was crawling across the grass towards him, her brown eyes that were fairly pretty, but nothing compared to Hermione's, shining almost hungrily.

Ron could feel himself backing away. Why? Of all the people, there were around twenty boys in the garden, how had this even happened? He tried desperately to look away, look anywhere else, anywhere but at Lavender, and her pouted lips, and her swinging blonde hair, the faint scars on her face – souvenirs from Greyback, her low cut top showing off her chest… Merlin, why?

Ron could feel his heart beating faster. He didn't want this. Not sixth year all over again, no, he wouldn't. He refused.

Looks like Hermione refuses too, he thought, as Lavender pinned his arms down as kissed him. She had got up, tripped slightly, and then fled into the house.

No, not again, he thought, as Lavender pulled away, grinning like a Cheshire cat. And that's not fair, I didn't even want to bloody kiss her this time!

He jumped up, and followed Hermione, hoping he'd get there before she had found the words to break up with him.


	6. Six

Disclaimer - You should have it by now. I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N - Thanks for the reviews everyone! It's good to know people still care about this fic after I didn't update for so long, lol.

Anyway, here you go, new chapter. I would just like to point out (or she'll kill me) that part of this was written by MyNameIsNotMione. She helped me with the heavy kissing bit, because I felt kind of weird writing that haha. So there you go. And you are warned, this chapter contains a bit of kissing and groping, lol. I am a bit concerned that hermione's a bit OOC here, but it's nothing really major so I hope you don't mind too much.

And if you review... then... erm.. soemthing nice will happen to you. You will get Ron hugs! If you review, you will get a Ron-hug! (It's better than cookies at least...) Enjoy!

_Six._

Hermione could hear Ron calling after her, but she had no desire to turn around, or stop running. Not until they were safely out of earshot at least. Somewhere private, where they could talk about what just happened in peace.

Why was it always Lavender… Hermione thought to herself, almost amused. Well, it would have been funny if it wasn't so exasperating. There's always one girl… one girl who's always there. Always a threat. And even though you know that nothing will happen, there's a tiny part of you that maybe thinks that given the chance, she'd jump on him…

Like she did just then.

"Hermione!" Ron bellowed, louder than before.

She had reached the topmost floor of the Burrow now, as far as it was possible to go without disturbing the ghoul. Where to go now? The bathroom, Hermione decided, opening the door and latching it loosely behind her.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She turned slowly to look at herself in the mirror. Her face was bright red, and her eyes looked wild, almost as if she had been running from a ferocious animal of some description, instead of her boyfriend.

Ha. Boyfriend. It was only just beginning to sound normal on her tongue. The night that their relationship had been confirmed she had gone home and stood in front of her bedroom mirror, repeating the words "I am Ron Weasley's girlfriend and he is my boyfriend" over and over until her mouth was dry and her mirror was steamed up with her breath. But still, it hadn't fully sunk in.

Of course, depending on what happened during the next few minutes, that could all change.

"Hermione? Are you in there?"

His voice sounded so near it made Hermione jump. Smoothing her hair back, she made one last attempt to calm down.

"Yes." She replied.

"Well… can I come in?"

For all he knows I could be on the toilet… Hermione sighed. He really didn't _think _sometimes... but then again, she always thought too much. She walked over to the door and unlatched it, swinging the door open wide enough for Ron to walk in.

It was almost laughable how distraught he looked, thought Hermione. His face was scarlet too, and his breathing was heavy, probably from running up several flights of stairs.

"Hermione, I'm… I'm so sorry. I didn't… I mean, I didn't want… she was just there… I didn't know what to do… then she just kissed me… just a game, I'm so sorry… it didn't mean anything, it wasn't even that nice… too much tongue, not that you wanted to know what Lavender's like at kissing, well, if you did, she's a bit too enthusiastic, what am I doing… you didn't want to know… anyway, what I'm trying to say, is that I'm sorry, and I never wanted to… you know… kiss her, and I swear she fixed it so that would happen, she was looking at me funny before it happened, and I wasn't concentrating properly anyway, and I never wanted to play in the first place, well except if I was kissing you… because you'd probably be better than Lavender, actually, you are, so I'm sorry, and yeah. Sorry."

Hermione blinked once, taken aback by the sheer force of Ron's apology. He seemed even more short of breath now, bending over to attempt to get more oxygen into his lungs.

"What?" she said, resisting the temptation to grin at what was a rather amusing sight.

"I'm sorry." Ron repeated, seating himself on the closed lid of the toilet.

"Okay." Hermione said.

"Okay?" Ron echoed. "You're not… you don't… you're not angry?"

"No."

And for once, she really wasn't.

She liked to think she'd changed since Sixth Year. After all, it seemed such a long time ago. So many events had been crammed in between, more than what most people would experience in a lifetime. And those events, Hermione thought, were the kind that made you change as a person.

And the fact was that Lavender Brown didn't bother Hermione nearly as much as she used to.

Sure, it wasn't exactly fun having to watch Ron kiss her. But at the same time, that hadn't been why she'd had to get out of there.

"And anyway, what makes you think Lavender wanted to kiss you so much?"

She laughed as she watched Ron splutter, as he searched for an answer that wouldn't be too narcissistic.

"Erm, well, she… erm, she looked at me funny…" he began before trailing off.

"Honestly Ron, you have to stop thinking that every girl you meet wants to kiss you as much as I do…" Hermione said, enjoying herself perhaps more than she should be.

"But… what…you didn't!?"

Finally he'd got it, she smiled. No, she hadn't been overly bothered about Lavender. But she had been annoyed at the fact that the game might have made her kiss someone other than Ron. And she had decided long ago that wasn't for her.

No-one but Ron.

She smiled sweetly at him, feeling most unlike herself. She was almost teasing him! She had never seen herself as the type of girl who would sneak off with her boyfriend (there was that strange word again) just to be able to snog him in peace. But here she was, leaving her friends to it while she and Ron…

He was watching her now, an indeterminable expression on his face. Oh no… Hermione thought slowly. Oh no, oh no. The one time she'd taken a chance, and it hadn't worked… he thought she was weird, stupid for thinking he'd have wanted to do this.

Then suddenly, his face cracked into a smile.

"Hermione Granger!" Ron exclaimed. "That is most unlike you. Pretending to be upset and dragging me up here just for a bit of snogging."

Hermione smiled with relief, and shrugged.

"Well, we are going back to school, and I thought we probably wouldn't have as much time for this sort of stuff there…"

Ron groaned, relinquishing his grip on Hermione slightly.

"What?" Hermione asked, studying Ron's face intently.

"You had to mention bloody school, didn't you?" he moaned, rubbing the end of his nose in a pained manner. "I'd almost forgot about that.."

"Ron, it's the end of August!" Hermione said. "We're going back on September the first!"

"Yeah but…" It was Ron's turned to shrug. "It's still school… boring."

Hermione frowned. She had been looking forward to going back to school more than ever since she and Ron became a couple.

It was nothing to do with wanting to show him off at all. Nope, nothing like that.

But she had had all these little visions, usually dreamt up in the fug that came between sleeping and waking, usually involving her and Ron studying together, sitting under the trees by the lake, walking through the grounds hand in hand.

And the Ron in all these fantasies had always been enjoying himself.

"I'm sure it'll be fine once we get there…" she said dismissively, wanting to get away from the topic of school as soon as possible, especially if it was depressing him so much. "Anyway, where were we?"

Ron grinned, and Hermione was vividly reminded of a young puppy with a violently wagging tail.

"Oh yeah, I know." He smiled, before leaning in to kiss her.

Hermione moved her head upwards to meet his lips, parting them slightly as they met. She'd never really thought about the art of kissing before, and had never really needed to, but now she realised that there was a certain amount of skill involved. Rhythm, of course. And care, not to bump noses or teeth. Hermione still remembered her first kiss, with Viktor, when his rather large nose had got in the way rather badly, meaning that for a few terrible seconds she had been kissing thin air. She still cringed at the memory.

But kissing Ron was so different to kissing Viktor. Or Cormac. The other two people she had kissed. Three people. It was almost laughable when one thought of people like Lavender and Parvati, who from their whispers in the dormitory late at night had made their way through their fair share of boys.

But then again, Hermione was very glad to not be like them in that respect.

Argh, concentrate, a voice in Hermione's head hissed. Right, okay. But what was there to concentrate on? It was just lips, and whoa, okay tongue… that was unexpected, but not altogether bad… right, what was she supposed to do? What had she done before? Just opened her mouth slightly, and sort of touched tongues with Ron… honestly, it felt like she was a child sticking her tongue out at another child after stealing their toy… not that Hermione had ever done that of course… she was getting distracted again.

Right, concentrate on something else, she decided. Like… his hands. They were on her waist, but were moving slowly up her back… God, how was he doing that? It was so surreal that a simple touch like this could make her feel as if she was about to collapse... which would not be a good idea on the hard tiled floor, she noted, making a more conscious effort to stay upright. But it didn't matter now, because his hands weren't on her back anymore, they were moving…

Onto her front? Hermione exclaimed silently inside her head. When had this been decided? He didn't have her permission to do this? Just because Lavender stupid Brown let him go there, didn't mean she would. What on Earth did he think he was playing at? Without even consulting her!

And then it occurred to Hermione that she had been so busy silently protesting that she hadn't realised how much she was enjoying it.

Resisting the urge to slap his hands away, she continued to kiss Ron, this time with more enthusiasm. She could hear him moaning very quietly, almost in the back of his throat, as she moved her hands from where they had been pinned at her sides up and over his chest. It was pretty muscular, she thought, a lot more than she'd expected, having seen him topless before. Not that she could really remember it. She'd been too busy trying to hide her blushes.

Moments later, and Hermione had to pull away. She was out of breath, even more so than she had been earlier, and there was some kind of strange heat spreading through her that had nothing to do with the humid August temperature. Looking up at Ron, she exhaled slowly, before giggling for no reason other than because it felt like the right thing to do.

Ron looked slightly stunned, she noticed with a smile. His face was bright red, and his mouth open slightly, with embarrassing touches of the lip-gloss Ginny had forced Hermione to wear for the party smudged around his lips.

"That was… bloody hell Hermione." He sighed. "Where'd you learn to do that? Hang on, on second thoughts; I don't want to know…"

Hermione looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He really wouldn't want to know where she'd learnt it – from his little sister. It was at this point that the location of Ron's hands finally registered.

"Ron?" she murmured, gesturing to her chest.

"Oh, right, yeah, sorry." Ron mumbled, removing his hands as speedily as if she had been burning him. "Sorry… wasn't really… sorry."

"Oh don't apologise…" Hermione smiled, suddenly feeling more confident than before. "I quite liked it."

Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen Ron so red in her life.

"D'you wanna go back down to the party?" he asked, his voice higher than usual.

Hermione thought for a second, before slowly shaking her head.

"Maybe later…" she whispered, suddenly paranoid that someone else might have come after them, and could be listening outside the door. She wouldn't put it past Ginny to be concerned about her like that, and of course, Parvati would be keen for any gossip at all.

"Yeah, okay." Ron grinned. "They're probably still playing that stupid game anyway."

Hermione smiled back, before taking the opportunity to look around her. Her eyes rested upon a bottle of bath bubbles stood on the side of the bath, an idea forming in her mind.

"We could play our own game if you want…" she said quietly, reaching for the bottle.

---

Half an hour later, Hermione allowed Ron to lead her back downstairs to the party. It had been worth waiting in more ways than one, Hermione decided, noticing that the game had long since ended and that everyone had resumed their talking and drinking.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned in the direction of the voice to find Ginny, sitting cross-legged on the grass with Harry, Neville and Luna.

"Are you… okay?" she hissed, as Hermione sat beside her.

"I'll tell you later…" Hermione whispered by way of reply. Ginny nodded, obviously satisfied that Hermione was okay, and leaned her head casually on Harry's shoulder. Hermione watched with interest as Harry took her hand in his without even saying a word. What must it be like to be that comfortable with someone? she thought. But at the same time, Ron had sat closer to her than ever before, and had placed his arm around her shoulders.

It was nice, she concluded, after regathering her thoughts. They'd somehow all dropped out of her head at the feel of Ron's arm around her. Nice to be that comfortable with someone.

"Anything good happen while we were gone?" Ron asked, reaching for a drink.

"Well…" Ginny started, sighing. "Justin Finch-Fletchley got angry when Terry Boot had to kiss Susan Bones, so he threw pumpkin juice over him so he looked like he'd wet himself, and then everyone sort of started shouting at once, and trampling all over Mum's flowers, so Harry had to Levicorpus them to get them out of the way while Neville and me went to sort everything out. And we had to stop playing."

"So it was pretty boring then?" Hermione laughed, her mood a lot lighter than before.

After all, it was summer, she'd just spent a glorious half-hour kissing her boyfriend rather passionately, and they had all the time in the world to keep enjoying themselves. They'd be back at school in a few days, and as Head Boy and Girl, surely there would be many opportunities to spend time together, and it would be as good as always, if not better…

"See, everyone thinks this whole 'Voldemort's gone for good' thing is a lot calmer than before…" Harry said, taking a swig of Butterbeer. "But it's really just as, if not more, stressful."

"You're telling me…" Neville said, casting a glance at Luna, who was busy watching a nearby butterfly as it flitted through the air.

Hermione just leaned against Ron, and let herself melt into him as he held her hand. And although Hermione secretly thought that he must have been observing Harry and Ginny for tips, it still felt… right. It felt normal.

What took us so long? She thought. It was beyond her.


End file.
